The NotSoTedious Visit
by Ellie 5192
Summary: Follows The NotSoHappy Substitute Girlfriend in the NotSo series. It could have been a plain and boring visit, if it weren't for his somewhat shady motives. And, if all else fails, there's always St. Louis. S/J fluff. A slight 200 tag. One-shot.


_The NotSoTedious Visit- 200_

_Because, after all, what would my little series be without a nod to this little adventure?_

_Also, I'm bouncing in my seat after Gate to the Sanctuary, and I can't stop, so fanfic is my cure..._

_Enjoy :)_

"So... was it such a bother to fly all this way just for one little Stargate trip?"

"Nope. I kinda enjoyed the party actually"

"Hmmm"

"Besides, I'm lucky to have kind friends, who lend me their spare rooms when I'm in town"

They're sprawled out on the couch the night they get back from Jack's jaunt through the orifice. No, not so much sprawled. More like _tangled together _on the couch. She's leaning back into him at an angle, but one of his legs is over the top of hers, while the other is kind of bent under her knees, and his hand is around her waist, but under her arm.

It should be a very awkward and uncomfortable way to sit and watch a movie, but they seem to have perfected the art of moving seamlessly together, side by side. And neither is ready to move yet, except his foot has decided to go and get pins and needles in it, and damn it, it's at that stage where it feels like a hundred knives.

When he twitches his foot for the hundredth time, Sam only smirks and sits up, freeing the trapped limbs and extremities from their jig-saw puzzle without needing to be asked.

"Sorry" he mutters, settling back into the back of the couch, his feet joining hers on top of the coffee table. She doesn't respond, but then, she very rarely has to. Instead, she grabs his wrist and lifts it, scootching into his side and lowering the arm behind her, letting it rest against her ribs. He doesn't mind.

"So... I was thinking..." he starts, his foot bobbing lightly from side to side, hitting hers occasionally.

"Mmm?"

"You know what Vala was saying about the whole 'wedding' thing?"

She's getting suspicious, but doesn't look away from the television. For a man not known for his deep and meaningful conversation, he's heading into some very deep and meaningful territory here, and she's not quite sure what to make of it. Also, this is one of her favourite movies, and it's getting to the good bit.

"Yeah, what about it?"

She goes for casual and misses, landing somewhere between 'slightly worried' and 'quite curious'.

"Well, it wouldn't be _such _a bad idea... would it?"

Her heart-rate does that little skip-a-beat routine, but she firmly ignores it, concentrating instead on his fingers, which are dancing curiously against the couch on the other side of him. Nerves, she thinks, but can't quite pinpoint the moment it clicks as to why.

"What'd'you mean?"

Of course, they both know exactly what he means, but that doesn't mean the words from his mouth make any more sense than Swahili, and besides, she's just starting to get really good at feigning ignorance, and very rarely has the opportunity these days.

"Well..."

He trails off, giving a so-on-and-so-forth hand gesture out in front of them, and she sits up at that, shock, disbelief and just a little bit of indignation gracing her features.

"Did you- have you..."

He almost smirks at her stuttering, and the adorable little frown of confusion on her face doesn't help his efforts not to grin.

"Is that _seriously _how you're asking me to marry you? 'It's not such a bad idea'?"

And, of course, now that she's said it like that, it does sound a little ridiculous. After all, it's ten o'clock at night on a Saturday, and instead of whisking her away to a nice restaurant or to the movies or even _out_ full-stop, they're sitting on her couch eating a bag of Twisties while watching _Meet Me In St. Louis _for the hundredth time.

Still, he sees no point in turning back from the current path, and he certainly doesn't want to take the question itself back, no Sir-ee. So he sticks to his guns, cocks his head a little and grins just enough that she knows he's deliberately pushing her buttons.

"Well... it isn't. Is it?"

Normally the little shrug accompanying the innocent eyes would make her smile, but her frown only deepens, and while he knows there's still a touch of affection in there, mainly all he's getting at the present moment is pure disbelief.

"No", she scoffs adamantly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. She's about to lean back into him, convinced this is just one of his little games or teases, but he sits just that little bit straighter and looks at her dead in the eye.

"So, if I were to, say, do the whole down on one knee thing..."

Her eyes go wide as she regards him and realises he is being perfectly serious. Not just a 'will you marry me' serious, but that particular brand of serious that says 'if you want me to get down on one knee, hand on heart, flowers offered, professing my undying love, I'll do it'. _That _kind of serious.

"You wouldn't be opposed to saying yes... right?"

His expression has gone from playful to vulnerable in the twitch of an eyebrow, and she can't really stay mad at him. She can, of course, play a little game of her own, because she's always been a good student, and he's been a wonderful teacher over the years.

"_If_ you got down on one knee, and _if _you had a ring to show me, I would absolutely be open to saying yes" she responds, her tone suggesting that she doesn't think he's serious, though they both know he is.

Suddenly, without preamble, he slides off the couch to the floor in front of her, landing on his good knee, and pulls a small black box from his trouser pocket- the side she hadn't been leaning against all afternoon.

"So? What'd'you say?"

She looks between him and the box, and back again, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' and her eyebrows touching her hairline. It's not like she expected the whole shebang, because she's had the big soppy proposals, thank you very much. But sitting in her living room on just another Saturday, the strains of 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas' being belted out by Judy in the background, is not what she would have guessed Jack O'Neill would go for. And judging by the very nervous and partially bewildered look on his face, neither did he.

"Ah... mmm..."

She's barely making a sound, her brain trying to figure out how they got from snuggles to engagement rings.

"Sam?"

And she's making him really nervous by not saying something, though he should be used to that by now, what with all the ways he can suddenly take her breath these days.

She can pinpoint the exact moment he goes into backpeddle-mode, because it's the same moment she takes his face in her hands and kisses him firmly, her mouth grinning against his. He kisses back.

"Yes" she says, quickly kissing him again. "Oh my God, yes!"

He lets out a breath and opens the box for her, no words needed.

She stares at the ring for a moment. It's simple and elegant, the diamond set deeper in the band than most engagement rings, and she knows he picked it because it's both beautiful and practical. After all, a huge rock sticking out of your finger is only going to get in the way when tinkering with a motorbike.

When she doesn't move to take the ring, her mouth going back to that big 'O' shape instead, he does the honours and takes it out of the box.

He's barely got it on her finger before she's squishing him in a hug, her face buried in his neck, her arms around his shoulders, her body sitting so close to the edge of the couch she's almost falling off.

And he gets the distinct impression that she likes the ring.


End file.
